Queens Past and Present
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: A young prince discovers his secret past, while Christian gets answers to some lifelong questions. Follows 'What Makes a Family'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _This story is a sequel of sorts to the first-season episode "King for a Day/Instant Family" (primarily the first story arc), which first aired May 6, 1978. I had an idea from Mishee about posting transcribed episodes adapted slightly to accommodate Leslie's presence, and I'm probably going to do that under my other account on this site. PDXWiz had a related idea about writing sequels to select episodes, which is nothing new for me—see "Smoke Screen", "Roarke's Family" and "My Friend the Mermaid"! There are other characters I'd like to explore in more depth, from episodes I especially enjoyed, and I expect to be doing that in the future as well. Thanks to both of you for the inspiration. Christian's discoveries in this story will tie in with a storyline in my current FictionPress tale_ For Love of a Princess. _Thanks, too, as ever, to Harry2, jtbwriter and Bishop T. (Kyryn, are you still out there??)

* * *

_§ § § -- October 2, 2005

Leslie was very excited about meeting the ten-o'clock charter, because Christian was on it. He'd e-mailed her the previous Thursday about leaving on the last day of September; but between the lengths of the various flights and the fact that he would be crossing the International Date Line, he wasn't due in till now. She was glad there weren't many other guests on this flight's manifest; she just wanted to grab her husband and bring him straight to the main house, for the triplets were there and of course, she herself was working.

As was Christian's habit, he let the other passengers deplane ahead of him before making his own way off. He lit up at sight of her and half jogged down the landing ramp from the hatch, putting his laptop case on the ground beside him to hug her hard. "How're you feeling?" she asked, breathing him in as she always did.

"Tired, but I'm excited," said Christian. He drew back and grinned at her. "You know Anna-Laura's been working on the research she needs to do so she can write Mother's biography. Well, she couldn't resist reading the diaries before she starts the real work, and I had to get my own hands on them. I have two of them with me, and as she completes her own reading she'll ship them here for me to go through."

"That sounds really interesting," said Leslie, caught up in his enthusiasm. "Maybe you wouldn't mind reading them aloud to me?"

He squeezed her. "Yes, I think I will—Anna-Laura suggested it, and I thought it sounded like a wise idea. Incidentally, we never did find the other ones." Christian had stayed another three weeks in Lilla Jordsö after Leslie's return to Fantasy Island, wanting to help his sister with the work that needed to be done prior to starting her manuscript for the late Queen Susanna's life story. After some fruitless searching in the castle archives (which, as Christian had told Leslie in one e-mail message, "truly were in just as horrible shape as I'd feared"), he and Anna-Laura had done some hunting around and unearthed a box of Susanna's diaries in a hidden storage compartment in the closet of the castle's royal suite. However, when Christian had gone through them, he'd discovered that they began with the eleventh year Susanna had kept a diary. The first ten years were absent, and the last Leslie had heard, they were still missing.

"Oh wow," she said sympathetically. "And imagine trying to look through that enormous place for ten little books."

"Exactly so," Christian agreed, sighing. "The others are going to continue looking, but I didn't think it was right for me to remain any longer and leave you juggling your work schedule and three overactive toddlers."

Leslie smiled as he picked up his laptop case. "Well, I'm definitely glad you're home. Hey, listen, speaking of queens…next weekend we have fellow royalty visiting. I imagine your father might have been at least politically friendly with the king and queen of Carpathia, if not personal bosom buddies."

"We rarely saw the Carpathian royals, but yes, our countries are allies. Small-country brotherhood, you know." Christian grinned again in a self-deprecating manner. "Prince Miroslav is their only child—Roald's age, I think."

"You'll have a chance to get acquainted with him, or reacquainted, as the case might be. He's our biggest guest next weekend, and we're hosting his wedding."

"That'll certainly keep you busy. I expect Julie is hosting the wedding, as she does so many others." Christian put his laptop case in one of the triplets' car seats and actually strapped it in to keep it in place, then affected an overly haughty look when he caught Leslie laughing. "That's fragile, you know. Anyway…"

"Yeah, well…" Leslie settled into the driver's seat and Christian swung himself into the passenger side next to her. "Yes, Julie's involved all right, but only with the catering. The wedding itself will be on the same green where we had our wedding reception."

Christian rolled his eyes teasingly. "I can only hope Mariki has no part in this one. On the other hand, Miroslav is liable to welcome the sort of circus that surrounds most royal weddings. And of course, the press will be here as well, won't they?"

"Afraid so, my love, sorry." She saw his disgruntled look and added, "Hey, it'll make Father and Fantasy Island look good…" Christian burst out laughing in spite of himself. _"_We don't have to grant interviews or anything, we're just wedding guests."

"For after all, it just wouldn't look right for two of the most visible people on the island not to be there," he injected good-naturedly, "particularly when one of them is the host's assistant."

"You got it, my love," Leslie said and grinned, patting his arm. "You're finally getting a real feel for how things work around here."

"I know, I know." Christian relented and curled a hand around her knee as she pulled out onto the Ring Road going toward the main house. "To be honest, I do think it will be a great assist for the business. I wonder how Mr. Roarke got the request."

Leslie chuckled with remembrance. "It came the day after I got home from Lilla Jordsö—cream-colored stationery with the Carpathian flag and the royal family's crest at the top of the sheet and on the back of the envelope, and the entire text of the letter in handwritten calligraphy. It had the signatures of both Queen Aurora and Prince Miroslav."

"Hm, that's a keeper, then," Christian chuckled. "It should be a very interesting fantasy, and I look forward to meeting that young man. But at the moment I'm interested in just two things—seeing the children, and then getting some sleep."

"Don't tell me you didn't sleep on the flights," said Leslie.

"That's the problem—I slept too much on the flights. I was awake from Sundborg to London, but then I slept from London to New York, again from New York to Los Angeles, and yet again half the way from Los Angeles to Honolulu. Then I was wide awake the rest of that flight…and all night last night."

Leslie winced with sympathy. "Did you sleep on the charter?"

"No, I knew I wouldn't, so I bought a magazine at the airport. I think it's beginning to catch up to me, though." Christian yawned while she pulled into the Main House Lane and around to the fountain. "Don't worry, though, my darling, I won't neglect you. It's only that I know you're working, so I'll keep myself occupied with the triplets and try to nap when they do. At least that way I'll have enough energy to say hello to you the way I truly want to." He smiled a particular smile at her, and she felt a ribbon of excitement curl through her, knowing exactly what it meant.

§ § § -- October 8, 2005

"There he is," said Roarke, "the son and only child of King Albert and Queen Aurora: Crown Prince Miroslav of Carpathia, twenty-five years old last month and just about to become a married man." He chuckled softly. "I wonder if the young man is aware of the weekend his parents spent here, many years ago."

"King Albert and Queen Aurora were here?" Leslie asked in surprise.

"Indeed they were—in the spring of 1978, a few months before you were orphaned." He grinned at her. "It's quite a story, one I think both you and Christian would enjoy hearing, if Christian isn't already aware of it."

"I look forward to that, then," Leslie said. "So who's the lucky queen-to-be?"

"As a matter of fact, Prince Miroslav took a cue from Christian, and has been keeping her identity under wraps until the day of the wedding—which is tomorrow. He tells me she is a Carpathian national, but that's all the information he gave. She will arrive on the evening's last charter, to help retain her cover."

Christian was waiting in Roarke's study when he and Leslie returned from the plane dock within the half hour. "So Prince Miroslav has arrived, then?" he asked, looking up from a playful tug-of-war with Tobias over a talking plastic steering wheel. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the contraption's endless babble of phrases such as "Vroom! Vroom!" and "It's time to go to the store" and "Uh-oh, slow down, there's a police car behind you!" Christian and Leslie had found that Camille was to blame for it; it had been one of Tobias' numerous birthday gifts back in June.

"Good grief, who brought that silly thing?" Leslie groaned, rolling her eyes.

"I don't know," Christian grunted.

Roarke laughed. "It sounds to me as if the voice is dying; perhaps the battery is getting low, and you two can have some peace. To answer your question, Christian, yes, the prince is here. He needs to be married before his coronation ceremony, which will take place in less than two weeks in Carpathia's capital city."

"Why the rush?" Christian asked. "Does Carpathia have a law that states a monarch must be married before he's crowned?"

"No, but there's the question of providing an heir to the throne," Roarke said. "Since King Albert's death eight years ago, Queen Aurora has ruled the country; but when Miroslav reached his majority the year after his father's passing, he did not yet feel ready to assume his duties as the monarch and asked his mother to continue her reign. In the interim, he completed his studies and received a degree, and now he feels prepared to take over from his mother. And I have it directly from Queen Aurora that she is more than ready to retire."

Christian and Leslie both laughed, just as Tobias finally let go of the toy. "Well, then," said the prince, "I hope everything goes off as planned. Tobias, son of mine, I know perfectly well what you see in this thing, but I'm afraid you'd better show a little respect for your grandfather's work and give it a rest."

"Mine," Tobias announced, eyeing his father with a stubborn scowl on his small face. The triplets, now fifteen months old, had filled out enough that they were showing their resemblance to one parent or the other. In fact all three of them favored Christian more than Leslie, but Tobias had kept her blue eyes where his sisters had their father's hazel ones, and their faces had developed hints of the shape of Leslie's. Right now, though, Tobias was proving that he'd inherited his father's stubborn streak, to Christian's consternation.

Leslie intervened. "I know it's yours," she said, catching her son's attention, "but right now you need to leave it alone." She took the toy from Christian, who looked more than glad to hand it over to her. "I'll take it upstairs. Where are the girls?"

"I believe Ingrid has them," said Roarke. "You might bring them down if you like. I understand Miroslav is interested in meeting the children; he knew I would be introducing him to you."

"He'll be sorry," said Leslie wryly, earning laughs from her husband and father before chuckling and trotting upstairs with Tobias' toy. Christian hefted Tobias onto his lap and began to tickle the little boy, successfully distracting him. It was just then that the door opened and a young man entered, pausing in the inner foyer to watch Christian and Tobias playing together.

Roarke saw him first. "Your Highness, please, come in! Is there anything we can get for you? My daughter will be back in another moment."

"Thank you, Mr. Roarke, but no," said Prince Miroslav, stepping down into the study and approaching a chair, still watching Christian and Tobias. "I'll wait till later for any refreshment." He cast Roarke a quick smile, but his attention was on the princes.

Leslie came down then, a step at a time, holding Karina's and Susanna's hands as they took each step with a strangely uncertain eagerness. "There you go, good girls," she praised them. "We're almost there…good for you, you did it!"

"I'm surprised they didn't insist on crawling down backwards," Miroslav commented with a grin. Leslie looked up in surprise, and Roarke laughed.

"Too often that's precisely what they do," he said, amused. "Your Highness, my daughter Leslie, my granddaughters Susanna and Karina, my grandson Tobias, and my son-in-law, Prince Christian of Lilla Jordsö."

Christian put Tobias back on the floor and arose, shaking hands with Miroslav. "So we meet at last," he said with a smile. "I understand you're here for more than a mere getaway from the stresses of preparing to take a crown."

"Yes, I am," said Miroslav, nodding. "To tell you the truth, Prince Christian, I'm more worried about pulling off this wedding than I am about being crowned. But I'm assured by my mother that if anyone can do it in the short time I have, it's Mr. Roarke."

"Yes, I heard your parents were here before," Leslie put in, taking Karina and Susanna over to the tea table. "I can't wait to hear the story. Come on, girls, climb up here, okay? You can do it…that's it."

Miroslav chuckled, watching the little girls struggle onto the loveseat. "My mother hasn't said much about it, so I'm curious myself. Your children seem to be very good at climbing."

"When they want something, they find a way to get it," said Christian. "It can be very wearying dealing with them, but they're ours, and we love them."

"I'm hoping for that experience myself one day," Miroslav said. "Fortunately it need not be a boy to inherit the throne. My father saw to it that Carpathia's male-only succession law was changed before I was born." He looked at Roarke. "If you don't mind, Mr. Roarke, I too would like to hear about what happened when my parents were here."

"Very well," Roarke agreed, joining the others at the table. They settled down, with Leslie sitting between the girls, Christian with Tobias back on his lap, and Roarke and Miroslav in the other two chairs. "Now, in the late spring of 1978, I had a guest with a fairly common fantasy. He was a plumber named Ernie Miller, who hailed from the American state of Kansas. He'd grown understandably tired of the drudgery of the workingman's life he lived, and decided he wanted to be royalty—just for a weekend. So I set him up as the king of a small country, and he found himself immediately being deferred to, paid great respect, treated as born royalty. He was enjoying it greatly—and then he met his queen.

"Her arrival was very well timed, actually, for he had just met a diplomat from a neighboring country who clearly had several issues on his mind. She rescued him quite nicely from what could have been a very embarrassing situation, and once they had a chance to speak out of the presence of other ears, they began to get along quite well together.

"That evening they attended a small formal party together, attended by diplomats from assorted other countries who were here that weekend as well. There was dinner and dancing—the usual sorts of things you find so deadly dull, Christian." Roarke grinned at his son-in-law, who chuckled good-naturedly at the gentle jibe. "But something about the way the diplomat from the neighboring country acted tipped off Mr. Miller, and he confronted the queen and me and insisted on knowing exactly what was going on. At that point we had no choice, Queen Aurora and I. We brought him back here to the main house and handed him a history book about the country of Carpathia, containing portraits of the current ruling king and queen. Mr. Miller was quite shocked to see that he was an exact lookalike to King Albert, and wanted to know what the story was."

Miroslav was sitting upright, his eyes enormous. "He didn't realize that he was standing in the place of an actual living king?"

"No—as with most people outside Europe, he had never heard of Carpathia. But, however actual the king may have been, he was no longer living. He had recently been killed in a boating accident that Queen Aurora strongly suspected was not an accident at all. She was trying to keep the king's death a secret, for if word got out, the larger country with which it shares a substantial border would then have the right to annex Carpathia, in the way that France can annex Monaco if ever the latter principality has no heir to the throne."

"So this Ernie Miller was…a stand-in," Miroslav said slowly.

"Yes," Roarke said, nodding. "Queen Aurora was desperate to keep the three million subjects out from under the rule of the tyranny that presided over the larger country, which as I am sure you've all guessed by now was a satellite of the former Soviet Union. She felt that the tyrant in question had sent the diplomat with whom Mr. Miller was constantly dealing to kill the real King Albert—to set up the boat accident in order to do away with him. They had had no children, so should it be found that King Albert was in fact deceased, Carpathia would merely become a province of the Soviet satellite country."

Miroslav nodded grimly. "I recall learning in school that a takeover was narrowly avoided a few years before I was born. So they proved that the king was alive, then?"

"No, in fact, King Albert truly had perished in that accident," Roarke said. "If Mr. Miller were willing, he could step into the king's shoes long enough to fool the world into believing that Albert had survived the accident, long enough to hope that this tyrant would be replaced in the satellite nation's upcoming elections and different, friendlier, policies to go into place.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Miller was very angry. He felt that he was being used because of his fantasy, and at first refused to carry on with the charade. But later he changed his mind and played the role of King Albert so well—with the help of Queen Aurora's expert advice, of course—that the tyrant's diplomat was fooled into believing that the accident, which he had in fact arranged himself, had failed to kill the king, and was forced to retreat and to inform his government that Albert still lived."

Christian looked amazed. "That's interesting. Most of us went on an official state visit to Carpathia in June 1978, led on by my parents and accompanied by everyone except my sister Anna-Laura and her husband, as they were dealing with my infant niece Cecilia and didn't want to travel with her yet." He looked wistfully at Leslie. "I'd been married to Johanna for almost a year at the time of our visit, and I can still remember how eager she was to go with us and pass herself off as a princess. I wouldn't have gone, but Father refused to entertain my balking—what he called my 'infantile temper tantrums'—and announced that I was going, like it or not." Leslie grinned, and he rolled his eyes playfully and addressed the room at large again. "In any case, you were right, my Rose, my father was well acquainted with the Carpathian royal family. Albert was a partier and loved to have a good time, to the point of selfishness and the neglect of his country's well-being. He used to show up every year at our royal Christmas balls.

"Anyhow, Father said after we'd been there a full day that Albert must have grown up since the last time he'd seen him, which I presume was at the previous year's Christmas ball. He was very impressed by Albert's new down-to-earth manner and maturity, and by his generous hospitality. But it never occurred to any of us that it was because it wasn't even the same man. Mr. Roarke, wherever you found this Ernie Miller, I have to commend you. You did Carpathia a tremendous favor, and no one's ever really known about it, except for you and Queen Aurora."

Roarke smiled and caught Miroslav's stunned stare. "So my father, King Albert, was really no king at all."

"On the contrary, Miroslav, your father was a very competent and benevolent king. Your mother continued the charade throughout your father's reign because it was necessary; otherwise there would have been a great scandal, and the repercussions would have been felt for decades afterward. King Albert, the so-called 'real' king, was decidedly unfit for the role, and the marriage between him and your mother was loveless, as I understood it. When your father became King Albert, Carpathian fortunes changed very much for the better, and so did your mother's lot in life. She and your father fell in love, and you were born of that love. I believe you have much to be grateful for, when you think of the alternative."

"But my mother lied to me," Miroslav persisted.

"How?" Roarke asked. "By failing to tell you of all these events? She and your father were married in a very quiet, private ceremony in the Carpathian capital, and equally in private, he was formally invested as the king of Carpathia by a bare handful of people whom Queen Aurora trusted implicitly. It was necessary, so that if anyone—particularly the tyrant of your next-door neighbor, or his puppet diplomat—should question the legitimacy of the king's right to rule, his veracity could be conclusively proven. Fortunately it wasn't necessary; as Queen Aurora had hoped, elections that summer put the tyrant out of office and instated a man who had a much more generous attitude towards his people and Carpathia."

Miroslav was still scowling, and Leslie said gently, "She did what she had to do, Miroslav. Otherwise Carpathia as you know it wouldn't exist, she'd be in exile somewhere, and you might very well have never been born."

"Yet my blood isn't fully royal," Miroslav muttered, sounding betrayed.

Christian laughed aloud, startling him. "Because you were the offspring of a queen and a man who was really a commoner? I thought it was public knowledge that my own mother was born a commoner. She became a princess upon marrying my father, and later when he inherited Lilla Jordsö's throne, she was his queen. I am their child. Does being born of one royal parent and one commoner parent make me any less royal?"

"It happens a lot," said Leslie. "I was born a commoner, but my husband is a prince, and all three of my children are royalty. Just because I wasn't born to some king somewhere, does that reduce my children's right to call themselves princesses and a prince?"

"It's better this way," said Christian, grinning. "Mr. Roarke, you'd have quite the laugh if you knew what they teach our family in Royal Comportment classes about the vital importance of marrying outside the family. To this day I can still remember the stories about all the horrific deformities suffered by the offspring of first cousins who married each other and whose respective parents were often fairly closely related, because it was such a big thing to marry 'within the bloodline' in centuries past. There's still quite a bit of royalty out there, ruling or not, but not enough to prevent the eventual appearance of science-fiction-style diseases and caricaturish physical deformities if royals married only other royals. At least partly thanks to Queen Victoria, most of them are somewhat distantly related anyway." He smiled at Miroslav, but Leslie could see that his friendly demeanor had cooled a bit; he refused to suffer bigots. "And don't forget, no one likes a snob."

Miroslav was staring open-mouthed at Christian; when silence fell in the room, he blinked and looked away. "Perhaps," he mumbled, then cleared his throat. "But you must give me time to think all this over. I never knew…" He focused on Roarke. "When is my mother scheduled to arrive?"

"This afternoon," Roarke replied.

"When she does get here, send her directly to me. I want to talk to her," Miroslav said brusquely and stood up. "Please excuse me." He strode out without looking back.

"Well," said Leslie after a few stunned seconds had elapsed.

Christian shook his head. "Don't feel too sorry for him. He's had the facts laid out before him, and he'll just have to face them."

Roarke smiled then, in that mysterious, knowing way of his, catching their attention. "But don't be quite so quick to judge either, my dear Christian, for the young man has a surprise of his own up his sleeve." His smile broadened. "A very big one…if unwitting. Not only that, but something tells me it will be the first of many surprises you'll receive."


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- October 8, 2005

"There are times," Christian muttered, watching the triplets run around the lush green side lawn of the main house, "when I wish your father were merely another ordinary man, Leslie. When he gets that 'I know something you don't' air about him and aims it at me, I find myself wishing I had the power to read minds."

Leslie grinned. "Even if you did have that power, my love, Father'd probably have some mental shield that'd block you from reading his." She burst out laughing at the look he threw her. "Oh, come on. You know perfectly well that you're going to find at least some of the answers by the time this weekend's out, and the rest'll come along in good time."

He pointed at her and commanded, "Don't you start, Leslie Enstad." She only laughed some more while he glared. "I mean it. You've taken on so many of his characteristics, half the time I forget you're adopted."

"I thought that was the idea," Leslie said, giggling merrily.

"It wasn't supposed to be the idea where I was concerned!" Christian protested, then stopped when she slumped in her chair, laughing even more. Finally he sighed and rolled his eyes in defeat. "Oh, all right, I give up, before you claim I'm turning into the very sort of spoiled prince I've always hated." Her laughter turned out to be contagious and he found himself chuckling along with her. "Ach, enough. Tobias, stay out of the lane!"

Leslie jumped to her feet. "Oh no, there go the girls, right for the fountain. Susanna Shannon and Karina Skye, get over here! Come see Mommy!"

They were in the lane collecting toddlers when Roarke pulled up in a jeep, stopping the vehicle long enough to watch Christian and Leslie carry the children out of the way, then laughing and parking beside the fountain. "I see my grandchildren have been exploring."

"More than they're ready for, I think," said Leslie, kneeling to put Karina and Susanna back on the ground. "So what's the word?"

"I've just seen Queen Aurora to the bungalow she is sharing with her son," Roarke said. "She is eager to meet you two and the triplets, but that will happen at dinner this evening. I advised her that Prince Miroslav wishes to speak with her in the meantime."

Leslie smiled. "In a way I wish I could be a fly on the wall when they talk. It'd be interesting to hear what Queen Aurora's views are on Miroslav's attitude."

At just about that moment Aurora, queen of Carpathia, was embracing her only child in the main room of the Presidential Bungalow, the resort's largest and most luxurious. "I hope your flights were good, son," she said, smiling at him. Aurora was a serene, quiet lady, very self-contained, good at hiding her true feelings when necessary; she was true royalty, having married the original King Albert as a princess in her very late teens in an arrangement made between their fathers. Aurora's native country was even smaller than Carpathia, barely the size of Liechtenstein; her father had hoped to gain Carpathia as an ally by the marriage. Although the alliance had duly taken effect, the marriage had been a failure—though of course Albert and Aurora had never let it show. Aurora's first trip to Fantasy Island twenty-seven years before had proven a resounding success, and she was forever grateful to Roarke, having promised him that if there was ever anything he should need that was in her power to give, it was his.

"They were fine, Mother," Miroslav said coolly, pulling out of her embrace and eyeing her with suspicion. "I assume yours were as well."

Her quietly happy mood fell away. She was in private, and she could allow herself the luxury of indulging her feelings. "What's wrong?"

"I spoke with Mr. Roarke this morning," he said flatly, turning away from her and slowly crossing the room, just to move around. "He told me the secret you kept from me for all these years—that my father was not the true king of Carpathia."

Aurora sighed heavily. To be completely honest, in her deepest heart she had known that someday Miroslav would find out, but she hadn't wanted to face it. Miroslav had a very deep-rooted sense of blood ties and what they meant. "That isn't true, Mirek," she said, using the nickname by which she'd always addressed him in the hope of softening him, even a little. "Your father certainly was the true king."

"He was a commoner," Miroslav spat angrily, glaring at her. "He wasn't the man your father contracted to marry you to, was he? Why did you live a lie for so many years?"

"Is true love ever a lie, my son?" Aurora asked quietly.

"My father was a…a common peasant!" the young prince shouted. "Nothing more than a laborer from a piece of nowhere in the middle of the United States, a country that scorns royalty and always has!"

Aurora's anger was slow to kindle, and when it did, it was cold indeed, masking the true extent of the emotion. It had always fooled everyone—except her beloved Albert, born Ernie (and whom she'd always called Ernie in private), and Miroslav. "Don't you ever—_ever_—speak of your father that way again," she ordered, icicles hanging off her tone. "We loved each other very much, and he was always a good and loving father to you. And he ran Carpathia with a firm but benevolent hand. When we made visits to the United States, we were always treated with courtesy, respect and warmth, never scorn. Your father always knew what hard work was. When he came here to learn what it must be like to be a king, he discovered that kings work as hard as commoners, only in a different way. And when he saw what needed to be done to restore Carpathia to its full potential, he did it! He never once complained about it. He simply attacked the task and succeeded so well that he's gone down in our history as one of the best-loved kings we've ever had."

"He was a fraud," Miroslav insisted. "Not born to royalty."

"For your information," his mother snapped, "your father was far more royal than the so-called 'real' King Albert ever was. The man I was originally married to had blue blood all right, but he thought his title and wealth gave him a license to abuse his privilege. He was rash, irresponsible, selfish and petty. He spent all his time playing with women, racing boats on the most dangerous waterways he could find, driving too fast on steep mountain roads…he was a playboy, Miroslav, and hardly fit to rule Carpathia. He walked right into the trap he was set by that miserable diplomat from our overbearing neighbor, and got himself killed doing something he had no business doing." She shook her head in disgust. "That's the man you venerate as 'true' royalty, in place of your father, who always conducted himself in the most gracious and dignified way he could. I'm ashamed of you, Miroslav." She turned away. "Leave me alone. I need to rest, and your arguing wears me out."

She waited till her son had left, slamming the door behind him, and then sank slowly onto the sofa, rubbing her head. She simply didn't understand why Miroslav had such a sense of bloodlines. "Ernie, my dear, I'm sorry," she murmured wistfully. Some days, when she was alone and very weary, she missed her late husband more than usual, and could never resist the chance to talk to him, as if somehow he could hear. "Mirek knows as well as I do that you didn't deserve that kind of diatribe. And how ironic that he should bring it up, in light of what's going to happen tomorrow. I can only hope that his marriage will teach him that true love is the only thing that really matters."

‡ ‡ ‡

Christian was reading his mother's diary, 1953 edition, to Leslie, translating Susanna's _jordiska_ words into English. _"…I don't want Carl Johan and Anna-Laura to feel shortchanged, because it's very clear that Ulf loves his firstborn to distraction. But I've begun to notice that Ulf seems to be trying to mold Arnulf in his own image. Oh, I suppose that's only natural: Ulf will be king one day, and naturally Arnulf will follow him in the distant future; and, being the Prince Heir, Arnulf must be prepared for the duties he'll face. But is it really necessary for this to happen at the expense of the other two children?"_

"My gosh," murmured Leslie, "she suspected your father of playing favorites even before you were born, I guess."

"Long before, I think," Christian agreed, glancing up at the triplets, who as usual were thoroughly active. At the moment they were playing with a box that had contained a flat-screen monitor Christian had just bought to replace an old one that had died. "Look at those three, what imaginations they'll have!" he murmured proudly.

She grinned and nestled against him, squeezing his arm. "No false modesty here, I see. Well, keep reading." Christian had just that day received a package containing the diaries from 1952 through 1956, along with a note from Anna-Laura advising him that she was currently reading the books written in 1957 and 1958; he was reading entries that had been written a month or so after his sister's birth.

"This one is May 30, 1953," he said. "Here she writes, _I'm certain Anna-Laura smiled at me today. Ulf, being predictably Ulf, says it must have been a gas bubble. He even picked her up and tried to burp her, which struck me quite funny, especially when I saw the expression on the baby's face. Poor thing, she looked rather shocked! Now I'm afraid she'll be scared to smile for her father, if all he ever does is put her on his shoulder and try to force an air pocket out of her stomach."_

Leslie burst out laughing. "I hope we weren't guilty of that with the triplets."

"I don't think so," Christian chuckled. "We were better informed, I think." He might have said more, but at that point their attention was diverted by the sound of a small fist pounding on wood. Susanna and Tobias were still playing with the box, at the moment waging a tug-of-war with it, but Karina had apparently grown bored and had crawled over to the curio cabinet that stood in the corner of the room near the glass doors to the back yard. Now she sat knocking curiously on the wood panels on the bottom, about a foot or so in height, that formed the base of the cabinet. Leslie's small doll collection was stored in it, along with several whimsical but expensive figurines that belonged to Christian and were computer-related, given him by employees on his birthday during the years he'd lived in Lilla Jordsö. Christian and Leslie looked at each other with merry surprise, then watched their little daughter sometimes patting, sometimes knocking on the wood.

"She's going to grow up to be a drummer," Leslie guessed jokingly.

Christian laughed. "Maybe so. Here's a little more." He went on reading, and for a while he and Leslie were absorbed in his mother's thoughts, keeping one eye on their children as they followed the entries.

By the time they had reached August of that year, Susanna had fallen asleep inside the box, despite Tobias' determined efforts at pushing it all around the carpet; Karina was still sitting at the cabinet, and by now she had stopped knocking on it and was instead poking at it with tiny fingers. She seemed absorbed, so for the moment Christian and Leslie turned their attention to Susanna and Tobias. Christian lifted Susanna out of the box and took her upstairs to put her to bed, while Leslie adjusted Tobias' footed pajamas.

"Gub, ma-ma," Tobias requested. He was developing a vocabulary already, consisting of about five words. "Gub" was his word for "cup," "water", "milk" and "juice".

"Want some water?" Leslie asked, and he nodded, beaming up at her. She grinned back, took her little son's hand and led him to the kitchen, casting frequent glances back at Karina to be sure she was still all right while she was pouring a cup of water for Tobias.

Christian came back, glanced at Karina and raised an eyebrow in curiosity, then came over to watch Tobias drinking out of his cup. It was a skill he and his sisters had almost completely mastered by now. "You must've been thirsty…pretending a box is a car can really wear you out, can't it," he said, squatting beside his son and grinning.

"Gohb, da-da," Tobias announced, displaying his cup. This was his version of the _jordisk_ word for the item, _kop_; whatever words Tobias knew in English, he also knew in _jordiska_, which delighted Christian no end.

"Exactly so," said Christian. _"Va'såkul, sonen min, det är stort underbar!"_

"You never translated that one," said Leslie, surprised. "What's _va'såkul_?"

Christian looked up in surprise, then laughed, realizing what he'd said. "It's a _jordisk_ slang word, mostly used by children," he explained. "I guess the closest meaning in English would be 'how cool!'." She nodded understanding, and he peered at Tobias again. "Looks like he's finished. I'll go ahead and take him up."

She watched him lead Tobias along and coax him up the spiral stairs, holding his hand and encouraging him in _jordiska_; then, smiling, she turned and started for Karina, still sitting beside the curio cabinet. "Must be fascinating stuff, huh, sweetie?" she remarked before realizing that Karina had managed to curl the fingertips of her left hand around something and was tugging, without effect. "What'd you find?"

"Dat," Karina said, looking up at her with an expression that mixed plaintiveness and frustration. She kept tugging on whatever she'd gotten hold of, and Leslie, perplexed, squatted beside her and lowered her head, trying to see exactly what was going on. She worked two of her own fingers in and tugged, and to her surprise realized the panel Karina had found was loose. She blinked, then settled on her knees, rested on her heels and this time inserted a thumb in the gap for better leverage. Karina watched, still hanging onto the panel herself, and then both mother and daughter squealed when it came off altogether, to the accompaniment of several soft thumps.

Leslie raised herself onto her hands and knees, carefully lifted the panel away from the cabinet and Karina's questing little hands, and set it aside, then peered behind the cabinet to see what had fallen out. She drew in a startled breath, muttered "Oh my God," and then backed rapidly away a few paces. "Christian! Christian, my love, quick, come here!"

"Dat, dat, dat," Karina chanted, picking up on her mother's excitement and pointing behind the cabinet. Leslie giggled and got to her feet, lifting Karina and heading for the kitchen to get a flashlight while she waited for Christian to return.

"It's exciting, isn't it?" she said cheerfully, tickling the giggling little girl under the chin. "Wait till Daddy sees what we found. Oh—there you are." Christian was rapidly taking the steps down, his face a mask of questions. "You've got to see this. Karina got her fingers around something on the back of the cabinet at the bottom, and when I realized what she was doing, I tried to help a little bit. Christian, my darling, there's a hidden compartment at the back of the base of that curio cabinet."

"You're kidding!" exclaimed Christian, shocked. "I've had that cabinet for twenty years, ever since Mother told me it would be mine after she died, and I never knew about it. She didn't tell me. What was in it?"

"That's the best part. Would you hold her a minute?" Leslie handed Karina over to him, and he paused behind her, watching and trying to see what was back there, while she clicked on the flashlight and, by its light, began extracting objects one by one. Christian stared, till a stack of ten books sat on the floor beside Leslie.

"_Herregud,"_ he breathed. "Mother's missing diaries!"

"That's what they look like," said Leslie, rising and then lifting the stack of books to take them to the coffee table.

"Dat, da-da, dat, dat," Karina burbled, bouncing in Christian's arms.

"_Finnade du din farmors bokar for mej då?"_ he asked softly in wonder, staring at his little daughter. _"Va' underbar du är, lillan min!"_ He squeezed her, and Leslie grinned.

"I guess she did find them for you, all right," she remarked.

Christian slowly shook his head, staring at the books. "And we thought they'd be impossible to find. It never would have occurred to us that they might not even be in the castle, and I certainly had no idea I had them all this time. Ach, wait till I tell Anna-Laura."

Leslie nodded, then suddenly looked at him with disbelief. "I just thought about this. Can you imagine the manhandling that cabinet must have gone through when we were about to get married and you shipped your furniture here from Lilla Jordsö? And somehow, all that time, that secret compartment stayed hidden from everybody. It took a fifteen-month-old child to expose it."

Christian soundly kissed Karina on the top of her head. "Which just goes to prove that I have a genius for a daughter. Will you look inside one of those for me, my Rose, and see if there's a certain inscription handwritten in the top right corner of the end paper?"

Leslie picked up the first book in the stack and opened the cover; sure enough, written in black ink in the corner of the end paper were the words _D Susanna, sin tredje dagbok._ "I think these are what we want, all right. The D is _drödning_, isn't it?" At Christian's nod, she read out loud, " 'Queen Susanna, her third diary'. Oh my gosh, I wonder what year this one is. Can I look, my love?"

Christian laughed. "Go right ahead, my darling. I'm going to take our ultra-smart little princess up to bed. I think she performed a minor miracle for us." Once more he planted a kiss on Karina's head, then took her along to bed, talking animatedly to her in his native tongue as he went.

Leslie had settled onto the sofa when he returned and was laboring through the second page of his mother's diary, trying to read it in its original _jordiska_. Christian laughed when he saw her. "How much can you understand?" he asked playfully, settling beside her.

"More than I thought, actually," Leslie said, looking up and grinning. "It'll probably sound more sophisticated when you translate it for me though. You know my tendency to go word for word."

Christian smirked. "I do, and I'd hate to give up hearing it…it sounds quite funny sometimes. But to tell you the truth, I'd rather get my hands on these before anyone else in the family does, including Anna-Laura. So did you see the year?"

She nodded. "Yeah, 1934. If I have the words right, she talks mostly about her life in Sjöstrand and her days working in this little bait shop."

Christian nodded. "Mother's father evidently rented a primitive little flat on the second floor of the building that shop was located in. He himself was a fisherman, according to Mother. Once we've read these, maybe at long last we'll solve the mystery of how a poor, lowly fisherman's daughter eventually became queen of her country."

They rearranged the books till they were in proper numerical order, then picked out the first one and examined the cover. It was a small bound book with blank pages, but of poorer quality than all the others; they soon found out why when they read the first entry, dated New Year's Day 1932. _"I received this diary from Pappa for Christmas,"_ Christian read aloud. _"He saved a few_ öre _every week all year so that he could buy it for me, he said. He knows that it's all the fashion now for girls to keep diaries, and he didn't want me to be left out, for we have so little as it is. I think it's the nicest gift I ever received. Perhaps now I will be able to talk to someone, even if it's just a little book. I have no mother now and there are some things a girl can't talk to her father about. So now I can write down my thoughts here, and maybe when I am very old, some child or grandchild of mine will read these books and know me better. My name is Susanna Helgesson and I am almost fifteen years old, and I live in Sjöstrand, Närka province, Lilla Jordsö, with my father. He is a fisherman, and I work in the bait shop downstairs on weekends and most days after school. I will try to write in this diary each evening just before I go to bed. Tomorrow it's back to school and work after our holiday, and my life will be back to its usual routine. I'll write more then."_

"Maybe I'm wrong," said Leslie slowly, "but somehow, from all the descriptions I've ever heard of your mother, she didn't seem the kind to want in on a fad."

"She wasn't," Christian said, "but it seems that for girls and women, keeping a diary is a time-honored tradition, followed for many generations and probably hundreds of years, ever since women started being taught to read and write. And as she said, since her own mother was dead, she had no one to really talk to."

"No friends, either?" Leslie asked, very surprised. "I mean, even if she didn't have any in her own neighborhood, and didn't have a lot of spare time to just hang out, she could still have had friends in school."

Christian shook his head, looking puzzled. "That struck me as a little odd," he agreed. "But I don't recall that we had very many close friends when I was growing up. Family friends, yes, but primarily those whom Father knew when he was attending school. Their children were all older than we were, and even the youngest ones were about Arnulf's age, so we saw little of them. Perhaps Mother just had to work too hard to have time to spend with school friends. Maybe she talks about it further along."

They got so engrossed in the little book that by the time they reached the end of the month of March, it was nine-thirty. "Oops," Leslie said. "I suppose we'd better get to bed, since I have to be up early tomorrow."

"We'll take these up with us," said Christian. "I wanted to call Anna-Laura anyway, and I knew we'd have to wait, because of the time difference."

Once they'd changed into nightwear, brushed their teeth and settled into bed, Christian got up again and brought back the cordless phone from the library, punching out the long-distance number to Lilla Jordsö's royal castle from memory. He grinned at Leslie as he made himself comfortable on the bed, then identified himself in _jordiska_ and asked for his sister. Apparently a servant answered, and he had to wait for a minute. "I wish I could see her reaction as well as hear it," he remarked with cheerful anticipation.

"I tell you what, it sure won't be hard to imagine," Leslie said, and he laughed. Then they both heard a female voice out of the phone, and Christian greeted her and spoke quite casually in _jordiska_. Listening to the response, he broke into a grin that just got bigger and bigger, while Leslie watched with amusement. He was enjoying this too much.

Then he said, _"Inte dedära dagbokarna, dom som blev missade."_ He winked at Leslie, who had to stifle a laugh by slapping a hand over her mouth. She realized he must have let his sister think they were reading the diaries she had sent him the previous week and was having a wonderful time stringing her along.

After at least five seconds there was a squawking question on the other end of the line, and Christian cheerfully launched into a long monologue, explaining how they'd found the books. She exclaimed again; then he grinned. "She's telling Carl Johan what I just told her," he told Leslie. "I'll bet they're simply green with envy."

"Oh, that's just mean, Christian," Leslie mock-scolded, and he smirked playfully and got back on the phone to answer a question Anna-Laura asked. After several minutes of somewhat more serious conversation, the mischievous look came back onto his features and he pretended to look shocked.

"_Vi skulle aldri gyra en så skändelig sak,"_ he said in such an affronted tone of voice that Leslie couldn't help herself and burst into laughter. A couple of seconds later Christian laughed as well and held out the phone. "She wants to talk to you a moment."

"Hello, Anna-Laura," Leslie greeted her sister-in-law, returning Christian's grin.

"_Hallå då,_ Leslie. Listen, I'm going to trust in you to keep that brother of mine honest. He's not to spend more time than he really needs in reading those books to you, and as soon as he completes the tenth one, he's to bundle them up and ship them here to me. I'll need the diaries to really begin earnest work on Mother's biography, so if you two expect to add the book to your collection within the next eighteen months, there's to be no tarrying."

"Aye-aye, captain," said Leslie playfully. "I'll ride herd on him, solemn promise." Well aware of Christian's look of exaggerated suspicion, she talked a little more with Anna-Laura, then gave the phone back to Christian, who proceeded to laughingly grill his sister in _jordiska_. Leslie kissed his cheek and swung out of bed to check on the triplets. He was still on the phone when she got back, so she carefully gathered up the fragile first diary and tried to pick her way through the first entry for April 1932.

Christian's loud laugh made her look up again, and she stared at him while he made a quick farewell before abruptly cutting off the conversation. "Okay, what was that all about? Teasing your poor sister again?" she asked.

"She simply let it be known that she's been keeping company with Sebastian—our distant cousin the duke. I knew there was something trying to go on between them. I went with Anna-Laura to his home in Sommarhamn so she could look through his family papers, and I noticed how much attention he seemed to be paying her. She hardly noticed; I think she's a bit of a prude."

Leslie snorted good-naturedly and scolded, "Oh, Christian, for Pete's sake. She's not long off a divorce, and it's been decades since Esbjörn died. If you ask me, it's not prudishness so much as it is her still missing Esbjörn."

"How do you figure that?" he demanded, staring at her in amazement.

"You forget how many years I was in mourning for Teppo before you came along," she told him, patting his shoulder. "It's not easy to get over that kind of love, when it ends in a fashion like that. Let her conduct her own romance in her own way and on her own time. If there's really any prudishness in there, Sebastian'll probably take care of it in a hurry, once he gets impatient enough. So come on, my love, didn't you tell her we have to be up early to meet Daniel and Gabriella and Anders at the plane dock? We'd better get some sleep."

Christian grunted, but pushed himself off the bed to return the phone to its base in the library. He returned with a bookmark and gently but firmly closed the diary she was still trying to read. "May I remind you of our early rising hour? Besides, we'll have the fun of telling Daniel and Briella all about how Karina discovered these diaries." She grinned; they kissed each other, then snuggled down to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- October 9, 2005

"Terrifying how long it's been since we last saw you," Christian kidded when Daniel and Gabriella, carrying Anders, had stepped off the plane and they'd all greeted one another. "Of course, Mr. Roarke has a standing invitation that you eat all your meals with us at his house while you're here, and Julie Callaghan set aside her best room at her bed-and-breakfast for the two of you. Nothing but the best for royalty."

"Especially when that royalty's family," Leslie agreed, grinning.

Daniel laughed and Gabriella giggled; they both sounded tired. "It doesn't look so different from when we were here last, but then again it's been some time, so I don't know what would have changed," the young queen remarked. "I did forget exactly how long those flights were. Ach, what a beastly long trip."

"Let me take him for you," Leslie offered, reaching out for Anders; Gabriella smiled gratefully and turned her son over to her aunt. "Hi, little guy. You sure look bright and cheery for somebody who's just finished a trip around the world."

"He didn't enjoy the takeoffs very much, because of the pressure in his ears, but once we were actually in the air he was fine," said Daniel. "Kept staring out the window at all the clouds. He slept when we couldn't, and then when we were finally tired enough to doze off, he was wide awake and wanted attention—and someone to hold him so he could see out the window." They all laughed, and six-month-old Anders chortled.

"That's life with a baby," Christian said. "Well, let's go." He started toward the car with the queen and the prince consort in his wake; Leslie directed the attendants to bring the suitcases along with them, and followed her husband, telling Anders what he was seeing and making the baby coo or squeal now and then.

"Speaking of life with babies," she said once they were on their way to Julie's B&B, "you have to hear what happened last night." She and Christian took turns relating to Gabriella and Daniel how Karina had led them to the discovery of Queen Susanna's lost diaries. The queen and prince consort looked at each other in frequent amazement.

"Bright young lady you have," Daniel remarked when they'd finished. "Let me tell you, Christian, Anna-Laura has had the place in a minor uproar ever since you returned here. We were warned by Carl Johan that we'd better not be too surprised to return home and find all our carpets completely replaced. Now we can sleep easily." They all laughed again, and soon they had arrived at the B&B, from where they could hear the sounds of some of Julie's guests using the pool out back.

Julie must have seen them pull up through the window, for she popped out the back door with Rory, now almost six and a kindergartner, in her wake. "Hi, Leslie, how's everybody? It's been a while."

"Sure has," Leslie agreed. "Here are your most distinguished guests this weekend—Christian's niece, Queen Gabriella, her husband, Prince Daniel, and their son Prince Anders, who's six months old." She turned to Gabriella, who stood closest. "And this is your hostess and proprietress, Julie Callaghan. She and her sister are Father's goddaughters, both born and raised on this island. Oh yeah…this is Julie's son Rory."

"I thought you forgot all about me, Auntie Leslie," Rory said, coming right out of an impending sulk. "Hi, Uncle Prince." This he addressed to Christian, who was just coming around the front of the car with Anders in his arms.

"Hello there, young man," Christian said. "Keeping out of trouble?"

"Mom says I've been real good this whole week," said Rory proudly.

Julie snorted and quantified, "That means he didn't set any flameproof substances on fire or turn anyone into a throw pillow or an Easter basket at school. The first couple weeks, his teacher kept strongly hinting at me that I should seriously consider homeschooling him. I think he's getting better, but I'm at my limit. I don't know how to teach him how to control his powers, and Rogan's not used to the MacNabb brand of magic, so…" She let the sentence trail off and shrugged eloquently.

"_Herregud,"_ said Daniel, gaping slack-jawed at her. "I knew this was Fantasy Island, but…I just never thought…"

"Have you thought of talking to Mr. Roarke?" Christian asked Julie. "Surely he's familiar with the MacNabb powers. After all, he knew your parents, didn't he?"

"They were close friends of his, yeah," Julie said. "I would, but he's so busy."

"Then call your sister," Leslie suggested. "Delphine could give you some tips, and I bet she's had that same problem with her own kids."

"Yeah," Julie exclaimed. "Why didn't I think of that?" She wrinkled her nose and answered her own question. "Because Delphine still treats me like a stupid little kid, that's why. She's always been condescending toward me, just because she has the powers and I don't." She suddenly yanked herself up straight and groaned. "Geez, here I am standing here babbling when I've got business to conduct." She curtsied to Gabriella and the still-stunned Daniel. "Welcome to Fantasy Island, Your Majesty and Your Highness. I've set aside our largest room for you so you can have plenty of space for Prince Anders there."

"Thank you, Mrs. Callaghan," Gabriella replied, smiling through her fatigue. "I think that just for now, Daniel and I would prefer a rest, although I doubt we're going to get it, thanks to Anders."

"Why don't you let us take him for right now?" Leslie offered. "Our weekend babysitter still helps us out with the triplets, and she won't mind keeping an eye on Anders. He'll charm her right out of her socks."

"Would you?" Gabriella asked gratefully. "All we need is about three hours of nap and we'll be able to attend Prince Miroslav's wedding this evening. Thank you so much, Aunt Leslie. This will be a really big help." She yawned, watching Christian bounce Anders for a moment and smiling when the baby gurgled in delight; then she focused on her aunt once more. "Have you met the prince yet?"

Leslie and Christian looked at each other. "Yesterday, yes, when he got here," Leslie said. "Have you ever met him before?"

Gabriella smiled. "Once, at my coronation. He was extremely formal—he'd have put Pappa to shame, I think. He said actually that he'd been at Pappa's coronation as well, and he really admired him."

"Oh, fate in her mercy," Christian muttered. "If I'd known that…" He aimed a crooked grin at his niece. "There's a story behind Miroslav's father, the late King Albert. I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say that I think the young man needs an attitude adjustment. I suppose if Arnulf had known him better, he'd have tried to adopt him."

Daniel looked surprised. "Two of a kind, hm?"

"Perhaps," Christian said, frowning. "Look, you two need some rest, as Briella said. Why don't you go on in with Julie, and Leslie and I will have Anders till you're ready for him to come back. Leslie has to report back to Mr. Roarke, and we shouldn't waste any more time. My Rose, shall we?"

"Have a good nap," Leslie said and smiled at all of them. "See you later on, Julie…bye, Rory." Rory waved after them as Christian resettled Anders into Tobias' car seat and Leslie got behind the wheel, pulling out past the jeep that was just coming in to drop off Daniel and Gabriella's luggage.

At the main house they got a surprise: Queen Aurora was sitting in one of the leather chairs, talking with Roarke. She cut herself off in the middle of a word and turned to see who had come in; Leslie, carrying Anders, curtsied to her, and Christian bowed. "Your Majesty," he said, with the formal, correct face he wore when meeting royals who outranked him. "It's very good to see you."

"And you as well, Prince Christian," Aurora said warmly. Her tone brought on a smile from the prince, who brought Leslie forward with Anders and caught Aurora's attention. "Did you two have another child? That's ambitious, with triplets who are so young yet."

Leslie laughed. "Actually, Your Majesty, this is Prince Anders—Queen Gabriella and Prince Daniel's son, and Christian's great-nephew. They just got in, and we're keeping Anders for a while so his parents can sneak a few hours' nap. Say hello to Queen Aurora, Anders." She tickled the baby's tummy and Anders responded with a big grin.

Aurora laughed softly. "He's adorable."

"Also wide awake," Christian noted wryly. At the queen's chuckle, he shifted his attention to Roarke. "Is Haruko still upstairs with the triplets?"

"Yes, and in fact the children are napping at the moment. I think she'll enjoy having Anders to play with." Roarke smiled and gestured for Leslie to take the baby up, and she smiled back and headed up the stairs with Anders.

Christian approached the desk and said, "Well, Briella and Daniel are safely delivered to Julie's place. Forgive me if I sound presumptuous, Queen Aurora, but I merely wondered if Prince Miroslav had been here yet…"

Aurora's expression collapsed into worry. "We…exchanged words when I arrived yesterday, and I haven't seen him since then. I've been trying to understand why he has the attitude he does toward his father." She sighed as Leslie came back down, and went on, "It's ironic, really, considering whom Mirek is marrying this evening."

Christian held out an arm and tightened it around Leslie when she walked into his embrace. "Ironic?" he asked.

Roarke leaned forward. "If you'll pardon me, Your Majesty?" Aurora nodded wearily, and Roarke turned to his daughter and son-in-law. "It so happens that Miroslav's bride is one of Queen Aurora's own ladies-in-waiting, the youngest of the group."

Leslie looked slightly confused, but Christian grasped it instantly. "In other words, to put it none too delicately, he's about to marry a servant." Leslie blinked, noting the pure astonishment on his face.

Aurora nodded. "You see the peculiarity of the situation, Christian. Mirek feels he isn't truly royal, that his father's blood isn't blue…but he doesn't care that he is marrying a servant."

"I…thought that just wasn't done," said Christian, sounding dazed.

Roarke and Aurora both laughed gently. "Perhaps it's not the custom in Lilla Jordsö," Roarke understated with light humor, "but it's not—quite—unknown elsewhere."

"That makes no sense," Leslie complained suddenly, scowling and shaking her head. "If Miroslav's future wife is one of the serving staff, then what's he doing griping about his father having been born a commoner? Where's the logic in that?"

"There is none, my dear," Aurora said, "and believe me, I sympathize with you. I'm afraid that Mirek and I were upset enough with each other that I haven't spoken with him since yesterday afternoon, or else perhaps I could have explained it."

"You don't know where he went, Your Majesty?" Leslie asked, surprised.

"No, he hasn't been in touch with anyone. I don't even know where he spent last night," Aurora said, frowning.

"He should have been recognized," Christian began.

"No," Roarke interjected, "as I mentioned yesterday, most people outside Europe have never heard of Carpathia. Fantasy Island is no exception. It's entirely possible that Prince Miroslav checked into the hotel last evening, perhaps under an assumed name, and was able to get away without being noticed for whom he really is. Let me call and ask." He picked up the phone and dialed the hotel.

Christian was still shaking his head. "Marrying a servant. That's unheard of."

Leslie was sure she must be brilliant crimson by now. "Christian, my love, His Royal Snobbishness is showing."

Aurora burst into laughter. "Leslie, my dear, I don't suppose you've read very much of Lilla Jordsö's history, have you? History was my favorite subject when I was a girl, and it's always been my favorite source of reading material. Your sister-in-law Anna-Laura and I have an occasional correspondence on that common love. Between her information and my own constant reading, I've learned that there's not a single royal-family member in the entire history of your husband's country who felt it proper or desirable to marry one of the serving staff, no matter how deeply in love a royal and a servant might happen to be. Christian's attitude about the issue is one of the very few things that clearly and sharply sets him apart as true-born royalty. It's a family attitude and he can't help having been ingrained with it during his upbringing."

"Hmm," Leslie mumbled, eyeing Christian speculatively while Roarke hung up the phone. "Is this attitude peculiar to Lilla Jordsö?"

"Not that I'm aware," Aurora said, and Roarke started to chuckle silently in the background because Christian's face had taken on a _what the hell is going on here?_ look. "I don't know of any specific examples, except probably Arcolos. But those two countries apparently are the holdouts in this new century. Royalty is all but obsolete these days, you know."

Leslie grinned. "I know. Sometimes I'm not sure some royalty knows it, though."

Aurora broke into laughter and Leslie joined in, giving Roarke unwitting permission to let out his own amusement at Christian's disbelieving look. The prince stared around at all three of them, but reserved his most betrayed expression for his wife. "Really, Leslie," he complained finally.

"You might as well admit it, my love, Queen Aurora's got you pegged," Leslie chortled. "I guess you'd better not be around Prince Miroslav's bride, huh? Maybe we should leave you behind to babysit the triplets and Anders while we're at the wedding." That earned her more laughter from Aurora and Roarke, and Christian threw his hands into the air.

Aurora took pity on him. "You can't help it, Christian," she said, still chuckling. "As I told Leslie, it's an ingrained attitude, and you came by it honestly—centuries of family indoctrination. I suppose it simply seems strange coming from you because you're so down-to-earth otherwise. But that merely betrays your royal origins."

Christian grunted and cast Roarke a look that fazed the latter not a bit. "You do realize the odds in here are bad. Three against one. Is that really fair?"

"I refuse to get involved in this," Roarke said playfully. "I am merely acting as an observer, and Leslie will tell you that that's something I strive to excel at."

Before anyone could respond, the door opened and none other than Miroslav walked in. "Ah, Your Highness," Roarke said, rising to bow to the young prince. "I am presuming you came from the hotel."

Miroslav stopped short and stared at Roarke in surprise, and Leslie laughed again. "That's Father for you," she said. "Come in, Prince Miroslav, what can we do for you?"

Miroslav stepped slowly down into the study, glancing a bit skittishly at his mother, whose face had carefully closed down into a slightly cool look. "Well, you're correct, Mr. Roarke, I did stay at the hotel last night. I needed a little time to come to terms with the things you told me yesterday."

"I see," Roarke said, leaving it at that. Aurora, Christian and Leslie followed his lead and held their silence.

Miroslav paused a foot or so from Leslie, facing his mother but looking at Roarke, as if he were afraid of Aurora's reaction. "I should clarify something. Mother's right. My father was a good man, a kind person, who truly cared about our people. For a while I thought it was a disgrace that a charade had been foisted off on our people for all these years, but in spite of appearances, that wasn't actually my first concern." He paused, drew in a deep breath and met Roarke's gaze head-on. "I feared I wasn't royal enough to continue in my father's footsteps. I just felt…inferior somehow. Maybe in fact, my problem isn't that my blood isn't as blue as I thought it ought to be, but more that I don't have enough of Father's commoner's touch."

Aurora blinked, released a breath and stared hard at him. "Explain, my son."

Miroslav turned to her at last. "I grew up watching Father in contact with our subjects, the way he spoke with them and asked them about their lives and families, things like that. He was genuinely warm and friendly, and I always believed that was how good rulers treated the people under their care. Before I found out that Father was actually a…let's say a new and improved version of the original King Albert, I believed that only true royalty could do that. Then Mr. Roarke explained the truth to me, and it was a shock. I needed time to consider the facts and what they meant to me and to what I was taught growing up. And I finally came to understand that the fact that Father was a commoner till he came here and met you is what really made him so different from the man he replaced. He knew how to connect with the people and how to get what they needed."

Aurora nodded, looking gently wistful. "Yes, he had a rare and wonderful talent."

"It was my fear that I don't have that same talent. Even before I knew who Father really was, I had that fear. I desperately wanted to know how to do that, without feeling as if I were putting on an act for the people. Father was genuine in his concern for them, and I want to carry on his legacy. But I need to be sure I can do that without having to pretend, and thus risking being transparent in my lack of care…do you see what I mean?"

Aurora nodded again and assured him, "Yes, my son, I grasp your meaning. But you grew up knowing the genuine love of your father, and you so readily absorbed not just his teachings, but his mannerisms. How could you not have that talent?"

"We do not always see ourselves as others see us, Your Majesty," Roarke said then. "I believe that Prince Miroslav feels he may not be quite as deft with the so-called 'common touch' as your husband was." He let a moment elapse, then studied Miroslav and said unexpectedly, "That's why you're marrying one of your mother's ladies-in-waiting, is it not?"

Miroslav nodded, looking startled, but without commenting on it. "I first noticed Jolanta at a distance, not long after she entered Mother's employ. From the beginning I saw her gentle and kind ways, and they attracted me before I realized it. She has those qualities I always admired in Father, and they made me fall in love with her. It's my hope that when I take the Carpathian throne, I'll have the good advice and the example of my wife to guide me and aid me in the successful rule of our country."

Leslie smiled. "What better reason is there than that to marry someone? That's really beautiful, Miroslav. I hope you and Jolanta have many happy years together."

"Thank you, Leslie, that's my hope too," said Miroslav, smiling at her.

Aurora had a look of profound relief on her face. "I'm so glad, Mirek. I was worried about you, and I had even begun to wonder if you meant to call off the wedding."

Miroslav laughed. "Impossible! No, I'm going to marry Jolanta, no matter what. As I said, I wished only to be certain that I was worthy of her and of our people when I'm their king. And I think I can do it, with her by my side. Is everything in good order for the wedding, Mr. Roarke?"

"The preparations are proceeding exactly on schedule, Your Highness," Roarke assured him. "We require only that you and your bride be there for the ceremony."

"And we will," Miroslav said, nodding. He reached across the desk and shook hands with Roarke. "Thank you for everything. Oh, and I truly appreciate your offer to limit the press force on the island to only the local paper and those from my own country."

Roarke and Leslie saw Christian relax with obvious relief as Miroslav and Aurora left the house. "And what about you?" Roarke inquired humorously of his son-in-law.

"I'm just glad you've held down the armies of reporters," Christian said. "More so, perhaps, that you refused to include any from Lilla Jordsö."

Roarke laughed, but Leslie merely looked at him. He squinted at her and then sighed, asking, "All right, Leslie, what's the problem now?"

"You, my dear sweet prince," said Leslie with a quirky little smile. "Do you think you can conduct yourself in proper royal fashion around Miroslav and his servant bride?"

Christian snorted. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" he grumbled. "You just wait, Leslie Enstad, I'll show you what it means to be truly royal. I'll set an example that you'd do very well indeed to follow."

"I'm gratified to hear that, Christian," Roarke said mischievously. "It would be quite a shame to find that you had regressed to your natural inclination to be thoroughly shocked at the thought of a mere servant becoming a queen." Christian made a growling noise in the back of his throat, and Roarke and Leslie began to laugh, Leslie hugging Christian and patting his back.

‡ ‡ ‡

The wedding of Prince Miroslav of Carpathia and his young bride, Jolanta, went off without a single hitch, and the reception thereafter was elegant but joyous, full of happiness and well-wishes. Naturally, Myeko Okada was there covering the event for the Fantasy Island Chronicle, and she cheerfully admitted to Leslie during the festivities that she loved the access her job gave her to "fancy-schmancy parties" like this one. "I feel almost as royal as you are, Leslie," she teased.

Getting into the spirit, Leslie lifted her hands and tilted her chin into the air, closing her eyes. "No interviews, please," she said in a fake British accent. "The prince himself has requested there be no access to him throughout."

They both laughed, and Myeko shot a glance in Christian's direction; he was talking with Queens Aurora and Gabriella, as well as Miroslav, Jolanta and Daniel. "What is it with Christian and his allergy to us poor abused reporters? We're just doing our jobs."

"Oh, you know, the usual story…he's had to deal with reporters all his life. I guess he wishes he could experience a life without somebody sniffing at his trail all the time. I don't know, I still think I should talk Father into giving Christian that experience as a fantasy. I understand he did it once for King Peter of Anatolia, when Peter was still a prince, and it really taught him a few things. Christian's so desperate to be a nobody, I'm starting to get the idea that it might not be a bad thing for him to find out what it's really like."

"You mean, try to teach him a lesson?" Myeko asked. "I'm not too sure that's necessary in his case. I mean, you know, Christian's so down-to-earth. He has that ease with us peons that you wouldn't expect out of royal people, y'know?"

"Usually he does, yeah…but he can't really subsume his upbringing, and the fact remains that he was raised a prince and expects certain things out of life as a result. What I don't think he quite realizes, even with his commoner's lifestyle here on the island, is that there are aspects to life as a commoner that he just hasn't had the opportunity to witness. He's always had access to people who inherited their wealth, people with titles, people who are self-made millionaires, stuff like that. He talks about trying to identify with the man in the street, but he so rarely actually comes in contact with people like that. Even here, he sees mostly those who're better off—the ones who can afford to bring their computers into his shop for repairs and so forth. Most of the time that's either our guests or our friends, not the average Fantasy Islander." Leslie let her voice trail off and considered the idea, nodding slowly. "Maybe I'll arrange it with Father and spring it on him as a Christmas present."

Myeko grinned. "That's one fantasy I wish I could witness. It'd be a kick to play a part in that and show him how us working stiffs really have it. Let me know if I can do anything, huh? And I bet the other girls and our guys'd get a kick out of it too."

Leslie blinked at her. "Are you saying _everybody_ thinks Christian's got it too good?"

"Well, no," Myeko said, hastily backtracking. "That's not necessarily it. I guess the others don't really notice it so much, but I have a different perspective because I'm a reporter and he can't stand reporters."

"Oh, I see," Leslie said, nodding and grinning. "So you're looking for a sort of revenge thing, I suppose."

"Well, he never turned _me_ down for an interview," Myeko confessed, turning red.

Leslie laughed and let her off the hook. "Okay, okay, I'll keep it in mind. But you're going to have to pretend you don't know who he is—_if_ we let you be part of it, and _if_ he even has any reason to approach you in the course of the fantasy. And _if_ we do it at all."

"I think you should," said Myeko, "but that's just my less-than-humble opinion. So hey, where're the eats? Do us lowly media hacks get to partake of the feast?"

"Sure, just for you, friend," Leslie said, laughing. "Come with me and we'll see what they've got." She led Myeko towards the long buffet tables, tucking her idea in the back of her mind, wondering faintly if she'd even have the courage to put it in motion someday.

§ § § -- October 17, 2005

"Are you really sure you want us to take these?" Gabriella asked dubiously, hefting the canvas bag containing her late grandmother's first ten diaries. "I know you and Aunt Leslie wanted to read all these before Aunt Anna-Laura got her hands on them…"

"Mother left a note tucked inside the tenth book," Christian explained to her. "It's addressed to me and says that they're mine to retain. It's dated about a year before she died, and signed by the servant who was with her the longest, as a witness. I made a copy of it in my office and tucked the copy in for Anna-Laura, so that she understands those are Mother's wishes. In view of that, I realized that we have plenty of time to go through the diaries at our leisure. Anna-Laura needs them in order to get enough early information to begin her biography, and once she's got what she needs, she can return them to us and we'll have all the time on earth to read them."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that," Gabriella said, nodding. "Well, then, all right."

"Besides, we received a few more diaries from her on Friday," Christian added, his face becoming a bit pensive. "We have those to look at. Anna-Laura offered to let me keep those, but I'm not sure I want to. Depends on what I find in them."

Leslie slipped an arm around his waist. "Don't worry, my love, I'll be there with you. Anyway, I'm glad you had such a good time here, Gabriella. I think Anders and Tobias got to be friends, in whatever way two such small boys can become friends."

Gabriella laughed. "I know what you mean. Well, then, I guess we'll see you and the triplets at Rudolf and Louisa's wedding on New Year's Day, hm? We're looking forward to that. They're already in the process of moving Louisa into the castle, but she's staying in one of the south-wing guest suites till she and Rudolf are married."

"Oh, for fate's sake, that archaic custom again?" Christian grunted, rolling his eyes. "If I hadn't moved out of that castle, I suspect Anna-Laura would have forced Leslie and me to go through that, and I'll tell you something, I never would have stood for it. Not after all the time we spent apart."

Leslie giggled. "Calm down, my love. We're looking forward to it too, even though it means we're going to miss Father's annual New Year's bash. But Rudolf and Louisa are getting married only once, so I think we can afford to skip one. Have a safe trip home."

They watched Gabriella follow Daniel and Anders aboard the charter, and lingered till it crossed the sky over their heads; then they returned home, where Ingrid was providing the triplets with lunch and trying to load the dishwasher at the same time. "Hello, Your Highnesses," she said in _jordiska_. She could speak passable, if heavily accented, English by now, but Christian had decided she should continue using _jordiska_ in their house so that Susanna, Karina and Tobias would pick it up.

"_Hallå då,_ Ingrid," Christian said in the same tongue, while Leslie listened carefully, trying as she always did to mentally translate. "Can you keep the children amused for a while? Leslie and I have…something to do."

"Of course, Your Highness," Ingrid said with a quick curtsy. "I do have a date with Jonathan this evening…"

"That's all right," Leslie said when she realized Christian was too preoccupied to respond. "Go ahead, we shouldn't take long." Ingrid smiled, and she smiled back and accompanied Christian upstairs.

He crossed the bedroom to the dresser where two of his mother's diaries lay: the volumes for 1957, the year he'd been conceived, and 1958, the year he was born. She followed him, taking in his apprehensive frown as he picked up the books and gazed at them. "I'm still not very sure about this," he murmured.

Leslie sighed softly. "I'd offer to read them to you, but I doubt I'd get all the words right," she said with gentle humor. "But I'll be more than glad to listen."

He looked up then and smiled at her. "Perhaps that's the only thing that makes the idea of reading them even halfway bearable for me. Well, all right, let's make ourselves comfortable in the library, and then we'll see what the brutal truth is."


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § - October 17, 2005

They settled down in the oversized easy chair where Leslie had often curled up to read while Christian worked, before the triplets' birth; and slowly Christian opened the 1957 diary and thumbed through the pages till he reached November, the month Carl Johan had told him he remembered their mother announcing her fourth and last pregnancy. He didn't find any mention of this, however, till he reached the last day of that month, and then it took him a moment to start reading. When he did, his voice was slightly strained.

"_30 November__. I am still trying to deal with the news I learned today. Dr. Carlsson informed me this afternoon that I am pregnant. Yes, pregnant, at forty years old! I was so shocked at first that I seriously considered aborting the child—I know from all those tedious history lessons in the early years of my marriage that I wouldn't be the first. But then I came to my senses. How could I do that? All right, I don't truly want to go through with this pregnancy, but this is my child, just as Arnulf, Carl Johan and Anna-Laura are my children. I won't enjoy being pregnant, I know, and Dr. Carlsson suggested that at my age I am taking a great many risks. As if I set out deliberately to get myself in this condition… Ah, but it's done, and I have no good reason to terminate this pregnancy, not even my apparently advanced age. But there is one small bright spot. Carl Johan, smart boy that he is, suggested that perhaps the baby will be another girl, and Anna-Laura will have a little sister to play with. That softened Ulf considerably. I suppose deep inside I have to admit that the chances are probably not very good, since it took five generations for the family to produce a girl after the nineteenth-century Princess Dorotea. But one never knows…"_

"_2 December__. I spoke with Dr. Carlsson again today and he estimates that I am about ten weeks along. That means I should give birth in late June, and by then I'll be forty-one. Imagine having a newborn at such an age! Of course, Sire and Madame are very happy at the idea of another grandchild. For that matter, Madame has decided that she and Anna-Laura will make a project out of collecting all the news clippings they can that follow my pregnancy. We formally announced it yesterday, and I don't think I've ever seen so many amazed faces. One even reminded us of our announcement after Anna-Laura's arrival that there would be no further children. I've never seen Ulf look so angry. Fortunately Madame stepped in before he could say anything and explained that sometimes, surprises happen. Fate in her mercy, what an understatement that is."_

"Sire and Madame?" Leslie repeated when Christian had finished reading this entry. "I guess she must have meant the king and queen."

"Right," Christian said. "The spouses of the monarch's children have always referred to them that way. In this case it was my grandfather Lukas and my grandmother Julia." He turned a page and began to read again.

"_14 December__. I would have written sooner, except that I was under Dr. Carlsson's care for the last eleven days because I've been so ill. I haven't been able to keep anything down, and after two days of this Dr. Carlsson grew very alarmed and arranged for me to go to the hospital. I had tubes snaking into my arm for more than a week. Never in my life have I been so hungry and thirsty, yet simultaneously revolted at the very idea of trying to put something in my stomach. It's a horrible feeling."_

"_15 December__. I wanted to write more last evening, but I felt too weak. I am able to drink a special nutrient-filled beverage that Dr. Carlsson has arranged to have delivered to me here at the castle. He fears for both me and the baby I carry, but Ulf… I shouldn't write this, but I promised myself when I first began keeping a diary that I will be honest about what happens in my life. Ulf is devoutly praying to the fates that I'll miscarry. No one else in the castle knows this, not the children, not Sire or Madame, certainly not the servants. Even though this pregnancy is unwelcome and is making me miserable, both physically and emotionally, I made it clear that I won't voluntarily terminate it. My philosophy teacher in _högskolan_ would probably tell me that my choice to endure the horrors this pregnancy is visiting on me means that I am punishing myself for not wanting it. Maybe it's true…"_

"_25 December__. I am already receiving gifts from the people for this baby, some six months before she is due. (I have decided to refer to the child as 'she'. I know it may well be a 'he', but I choose to have hope. Please fate, let it be a girl.) They've all been coming wrapped in Christmas paper, and I've tried to put a happy face on the situation for the people's sake, but I live in fear that they'll know my true feelings about this forthcoming child. Ulf made little enough effort to hide his. Sire and Madame are not at all pleased with Ulf's attitude, and I find myself reverting to the terror the commoner feels at the wrath of his monarch, should they discover what mine is. I must make a ritual of telling myself daily, 'Susanna, you may have another girl.' It's best to hope for that. How else will I get through this ordeal?"_

"_31 December__. I feel simply horrible; I am again in the hospital, unable to keep food in my stomach long enough to do me or the baby any good. I insisted that my diary go into the suitcase young Minna packed for me before I was brought here, because I always make an entry for the last day of the year. Oh, baby girl, I do hope you'll be worth all this travail. May 1958 bring better things."_

Christian closed the book and then his eyes, his head drooping slightly. Leslie gently took the book from him and laid it aside, gathered the second one and hesitated, watching him worriedly. At last she ventured, "Christian, my love, are you all right?"

His eyes snapped open at that and he glared at her in disbelief. "Do you realize what a ridiculous question that is?" he demanded.

She swallowed and let her head hang, her hair thankfully falling forward to hide her mortification. _Me and my big mouth,_ she thought, disgusted with herself. "I shouldn't have said anything." Of course he wasn't all right, she berated herself; who would be, after reading such graphic evidence that his parents hadn't really wanted him?

Then she felt him wrap an arm around her and gather her in close. "Leslie, my Rose, I'm sorry," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I don't mean to snap at you."

"Well, you were right," she murmured, relaxing slightly. "It _was_ a ridiculous question. I should have thought before I spoke…I really just meant to ask if you felt up to going on with the next diary."

She felt Christian sigh long and heavily, and finally looked up at him, seeing his gaze trained on some memory. "I can remember when you and I spoke with Arnulf just before he died, and how he said Mother's pregnancy with me was quite hard on her. I didn't fully understand just how hard until I began reading those entries. And she still has nearly six months to go as I begin the 1958 diary."

Too curious to resist, Leslie found herself asking, "How do you feel about the idea that your mother was hoping you'd be a girl?"

Unexpectedly Christian grinned. "I expect there are worse things than being born female. Anyhow, I think she put herself in that mindset for a good reason. From what I read in these diary entries, she felt it would be easier on me if I were a girl, because Father would have been more likely to welcome a second daughter than a third son. I certainly had some nerve to come out male, hm?"

"Personally, I'm glad you did," she teased, and he laughed. "Well, let me know if and when you're ready, and I'll give you the next book."

"I'll take it now," he said, sobering. "It's strange really, but I find that now that I've begun, I have to go through all the way to the bitter end. Here, let's start."

"_1 January__. I lay here in my hospital bed last night, unable to sleep for vomiting episodes, and in between my body's attempts to empty an already empty stomach I found myself watching New Year's fireworks exploding over the Sundborg skyline. Thank the fates I didn't have this kind of trouble with the other children, and that this one is going to be born in the hospital. Arnulf, per more than eight centuries of tradition, had to be born in the castle, since he is his father's heir and the heir to the throne is always born in the castle. The way I'm going with this child, I'll spend the first half of 1958 in this very hospital room."_

"_26 January__. Madame was just here visiting me. I have spent exactly five days of this entire month so far sleeping in my own bed with my husband. All the rest of that time, I've been in the hospital under round-the-clock monitoring, this time for dehydration and something the doctors call 'gestational anemia.' I didn't want to hear the particulars, but Madame insisted on telling me it's a blood disorder before I pleaded with her not to say any more. My spirits are low enough. Rumors are flying—Madame is very angry with the local press. The most prominent one is that I am dying and the baby will die with me. I've wondered what Ulf must think of that last, but I'm not sure I want to know the true answer to that…"_

"_15 February__. This year's book may be my shortest ever. I've been in the hospital so much that I'm beginning to feel as if my home is there and I'm merely visiting the castle. I joke about forgetting what my children look like. It's another round with that anemia and the dehydration. I had one round of mild anemia during my pregnancy with Anna-Laura and I was sick quite a bit, but not nearly as much as with this child. And the boys were easier, Arnulf more so than Carl Johan. But this one is giving me so much trouble that I've started having the terrible feeling that I'm being punished because I don't know if I really want this child."_

Christian sighed deeply once more when he finished this entry and looked back through the book. "The whole thing has focused on the trouble she had with me," he said, almost tonelessly. "I'm tempted to skip ahead to the day I was born."

"She must have been able to write about things other than her gestational problems," Leslie said, with more hope than conviction. "My love, are you really sure you want to finish this? You've already had so many bouts of doubting whether your mother truly loved you, and reading this can't possibly help any."

Christian thought back for a moment, then looked at her. "I've been trying to keep in mind the words Mother said to me just before she died. She had a private talk with each of us in her last days—my nieces and nephews first, and then the four of us, in order of age. I remember that she seemed anxious that I know she loved me, because I had expressed my doubts in so many words at least a few times through the years. After my father made it clear to me that I was an unplanned child, I wondered whether she felt the same way, ever after. It was his revelation that made me hide from the family for several days, when I was eleven. When Arnulf and Kristina finally found me and I rejoined the family, I asked Mother straight out if she loved me." He shook his head, eyes unfocused. "I'll never forget how white her face was, when I looked at her finally. She insisted that she did, again and again, and after that she made a point of reiterating it from time to time."

Leslie thought about it. "I'm not going to say I knew your mother very well—I do wish I could've met her—but considering all the things you've told me about yourself since we met, and Arnulf's revelations that day, and now the things in these diaries…well, to me it kind of sounds as if she felt guilty about her ambivalence over you in the beginning, and she was trying with everything she had to make up to you for it."

Christian gazed at her with a faintly startled look. "Do you think so? I have to admit, I never considered that. Perhaps I've always been too close to the situation."

"I think so too. Look how she's mentioned a couple times in the diary that she thinks her medical troubles are punishment for not wanting you. Even then she must've been feeling guilty about it. Something tells me that as Anna-Laura sends us future years, we'll see the occasional entry in regard to that. Heck," Leslie added with a sudden grin, "I bet there'll be something later on in this very diary." She tapped the book in his hands. "Keep reading, go ahead and skip to your birthdate if you want to, and I think we'll see I'm right."

Christian quirked an eyebrow at her but acquiesced. He paged through a few more entries detailing Susanna's pregnancy travails, merely summarizing them, then paused and cleared his throat. "Listen to this."

"_14 March__. I've lost my only real confidante in this castle. Yesterday our beloved Madame died. It's hard to believe she was so alive, so vibrant, just a few days ago, celebrating Carl Johan's birthday with the rest of us, and now she's gone. I will miss Madame for the rest of my days. In the absence of my own mother, Madame filled that role. She helped me struggle through this incredibly difficult pregnancy and gave me hope, and agreed with me that it would be best if this baby is a girl. She even discussed names with me a few times. And if I am carrying a girl, her name is going to be Julia, in her grandmother's honor. She was out riding, a favorite pastime of hers, when something apparently spooked the horse, which reared and threw her off. She suffered a broken neck, which they say killed her instantly, so that she was in no pain. It's the rest of us who are in pain now. Ulf is very despondent; I feel devoid of hope. The children have been crying constantly, and Sire is most affected of all. He locked himself in the royal suite and has not been seen since then. Madame was the love of his life, and I can barely begin to imagine the depth of his bereavement. The country is in mourning and I dread the funeral…not only for the grief I feel, but for the fear of vomiting yet again, on national television, because of this child."_

"Your poor mother," Leslie said softly. "And you got robbed."

"I knew little of Grandmother," Christian said, his voice almost inaudible. "I guess the family found it too painful to speak of her. Carl Johan told me once that she would have joined Grandfather in spoiling me, had she been alive to see me born." He turned a few more pages, paused and read some lines, then frowned. "I never knew this. Listen."

"_28 April__. My little girl is five years old today. I feel about twenty times that old, for I've been lying in bed under doctor's orders ever since April 3. Not necessarily my own bed, mind you. I got out of the hospital on the 26__th__ after my fourth bout with anemia and dehydration. Dr. Carlsson went out on a limb and scolded Ulf and Sire for not seeing to my health more faithfully. I thought Ulf was going to dismiss him, but Sire stayed his hand and told Dr. Carlsson that he would do his best from now on. He agreed, there's nothing they can do about most of my problems, but acknowledged Dr. Carlsson's angry pronouncement that neglecting to keep me supplied with fluids is simply inexcusable. From now on I will have my meals in this room, and I won't be allowed to get up, except to visit the bathroom when I need to. Fate in her irony has turned me into a veritable battleground, but all the doctors have told me repeatedly that the baby is robust and healthy. May she have some mercy on her mother when she's born. In the meantime, Anna-Laura's birthday party was moved from the great entry to our suite, so that I would be able to participate in the celebration. Sire barred the press from coming in and made them wait to take photos till the party had ended and the rest of the family could gather in the great entry. I'm glad of that, for I don't feel worthy of being seen by the people just now."_

Christian silently skipped the entries for May and the first half of June, without even bothering to summarize them for Leslie; she suspected they were pretty much the same as the previous ones in any case. She watched him slowly turn pages, then stop on a particular date and draw in a deep breath. His body was rigid with tension, and she dearly wished she could take over for him, translating his mother's _jordiska_ into English on the fly the way he did with such ease. Instead she could only wait for him to gather his composure.

"_25 June__. I now have four children. And…fate help me…my youngest child is a boy._

"_I haven't yet seen Ulf, although Sire brought Arnulf, Carl Johan and Anna-Laura up to visit. I was in so much pain during the birth that that's all I can remember now; I recall hearing voices but not the words they said. So it wasn't till Sire and the children walked into the room that I discovered I had borne a third son. I felt numb at first, and then wondered why I had demanded that the nurse bring them in despite her objections to my having visitors. I could have had the illusion just a little longer._

"_In any case, Sire saw my reaction to his remark that the doctors were bringing the newborn to see us so that we could name him. I caught the 'him' and knew immediately that our newest family member may well find himself rejected by his own father. But before I could say anything more, Anna-Laura announced that we needed to choose a name for the child straightaway, because Ulf had reacted very badly upon hearing he had another son and said to simply name him Carl. What kind of foolishness is that? We have Carl Johan, as she pointed out, and it would just be ridiculous. At that point the baby arrived, and I got my first look at my new son. He's red, as all newborns are, but his face is sweet, and I found myself feeling twinges of affection for him. To shorten a long story, after much discussion, we settled on the name Christian Carl Tobias. I thought it wise to retain the name Carl, but I didn't want to use it as his everyday name. Anna-Laura came up with Tobias, and for the first time in many years, I remembered my poor unfortunate baby brother. It was the perfect chance to honor him, so I decided to call my little son Christian._

"_Christian is sleeping in a little bassinet by my bed as I write this, and I can see him if I only turn my head a little to my left. He is wearing only a diaper and lying on the blanket they wrapped him in when they first brought him in to meet us. When Sire and the children left to return to the castle, I took advantage of the time I had alone with my baby and carefully counted his fingers and toes—twice, just as I did with my other children. And then I simply had to know. Well, it's not that I thought everyone was lying to me, but I needed to confirm it with my own eyes. I laid him on his back beside me, unwrapped his blanket and unpinned his diaper. And there it was, the unmistakable proof that my child is a boy. So I do indeed have a third son, and though it makes me feel like a witch to say this, I'm afraid I'm quite disappointed._

"_I even told him, 'You were supposed to be Julia Katarina Anna, don't you know that?' But Christian simply slept on, totally oblivious. Poor baby, he has no idea what lies in wait for him when he and I go home to the castle. Oh, Carl Johan and Anna-Laura are excited, and Sire is delighted by his newest grandson. But Ulf…I can't even bear to write about what Ulf will probably do, and of course Arnulf, being his father's son, will imitate anything he does or says. And I myself just don't feel up to the continuous care Christian's going to need. His birth wrung me out so completely that the doctors have scheduled a hysterectomy for me on July 17. That will put an end once and for all to further family enlargements…or more sons for Ulf to disapprove of. I'm too old to go through another pregnancy, so I welcome the surgery."_

Christian's voice was tight and his face grim as he finished reading this, and Leslie looked worriedly up at him. "Maybe you shouldn't…" she began.

"Maybe not," Christian retorted, "but I will. You seem optimistic about some future entry. Suppose we try to find this alleged good news."

Leslie offered calmly, "Why don't you skip ahead to around the end of September or early October? You should find it there."

"Suppose you look it up, then. It'll be good practice for your _jordiska_. I have to take a break." Christian launched himself out of the chair and left the room, and Leslie shook her head, smiling faintly, before thumbing through pages till she got to late September. Then she hesitated, frowned, and got up to look up something in the _jordiska_-English dictionary Christian had bought her on one of their last few visits to Lilla Jordsö.

She skimmed about a week's worth of entries before she found the word she wanted, embedded in a sentence whose meaning she couldn't possibly mistake: _Christian har lungaholga!_ the handwriting cried. She nodded once to herself and closed the book for a moment, with a finger stuck between the pages to hold her place.

A few minutes later Christian came back with a closed-off expression and a chill in his hazel eyes. "I suppose you think you found something," he said coolly.

Leslie recognized the imperial cloak he drew around himself when he was angry or upset, and got to her feet, giving him her most regal look in return. "When you're prepared to be reasonable about it," she said in a tone even colder than his, "come look for me. Till then, you can sulk by yourself." She started to walk past him to leave the room.

Christian muttered a curse, expelled a breath and caught her. "Damn it, Leslie, don't you understand my mood right now?"

"I do understand," she said, eyeing him with mild annoyance. "What you don't seem to realize is that I'm trying to help you. You've obviously forgotten something very important about your infancy, and if you'd drop that eternally offended manner of yours and open your mind just a little bit, you might be reminded."

For a moment Christian just stared at her; then he smiled, just slightly, and relented. "All right, then," he said. "My apologies in advance, because you're so sure of yourself that now I expect to find myself hideously wrong."

Leslie laughed. "Come on, you, let's get back here and you start reading this thing to me. I had to look up the word I wanted, but it was worth it. Come on."

Settled comfortably back in their chair, this time with Leslie's legs draped across his lap, Christian opened the diary to the page she was holding and cleared his throat. "All right then, let's see exactly what has you going like this."

"_29 September__. Christian has pneumonia! Dr. Carlsson has just confirmed it, and Christian is now in the hospital being treated. Anna-Laura and I went up to see him this morning, and for the first time I found him alone in his room and the nanny nowhere in sight. When Anna-Laura finally rousted her out of her little room, she looked simply horrendous. Dr. Carlsson has since confirmed that she too has pneumonia and is most likely the source of it in Christian, and the girl in fact blamed herself for it in front of me. Wherever he got it, I'm deathly afraid for him. Fate is certainly punishing me now, for foisting his care off on a stranger. How could I have been so stupid, so cruel? If Christian dies, I'll never forgive myself, much less Ulf, for he's the one who talked me into giving Christian that airless mid-bank room and getting a nanny to take care of him, when I myself should have been doing it. I took care of Arnulf, Carl Johan and Anna-Laura when they were babies. Why on earth haven't I given Christian the same preference? How could I let Ulf and his animosity toward the baby influence my decisions about him? There's nothing we can do about the room he's in, for none of the second-floor suites has been added to the north-wing heating system yet and I don't want Christian freezing come winter. But by fate, the nanny goes, or I move out of Ulf's and my suite!_

"_But at dinner this evening, Ulf said something that proved to simply be the last straw. When he heard that Christian's pneumonia is an advanced case, he said, almost casually I thought, that he thought it better if Christian were allowed to die, since we had enough children for the succession. I think he would have said more, but the idea that he would want his own child dead broke the last of my shameful disappointment over having borne Christian. Never in all my life have I been so infuriated with anyone. I told Ulf off in front of everyone, including Sire, and assured him that once Christian returns home, I'll take over all his care and the nanny will be sent packing to Älvsvik where she came from. No more will I let anything Ulf says be the final word where Christian is concerned, not after that heinous display of contempt. If this is going to be Ulf's attitude toward Christian, then that child is going to need a protector, and by fate, I'll do it! I hope one day fate, and Christian himself, will forgive me for my shortsightedness and insensitivity up till now. How could I be such a fool? No longer. From this day on, I'm going to see to it that Christian knows his mother loves him very much, and if he ever has cause to doubt me, I'll work twice as hard to reassure him. May fate hear me and help me, and I thank her for making me realize how precious my little Christian truly is."_

Leslie looked up at the thickening in his voice and saw tears standing in his eyes. He met her gaze and blinked, dislodging one tear, and she reached up and brushed it away. "What do you think now?" she asked softly.

"Now that I read it, I remember Arnulf's mention of the epiphany Mother had," Christian murmured. "If I ever wonder again…all I have to do is look at this book, and I'll be set straight."

"Exactly, my love," said Leslie, smiling, and snuggled against him. "Now keep on reading, I want to hear about all the funny things you did as a baby." Christian broke into laughter and gladly complied.

* * *

_As mentioned at the beginning of this story, the "fantasy" part of this was based on the episode "King for a Day/Instant Family", with David Doyle as Ernie Miller/King Albert and Diane Baker as Queen Aurora. In mentioning Prince (later King) Peter of Anatolia, I referred to another first-season episode called "The Prince/The Sheriff" which originally aired on February 11, 1978, and starred Dack Rambo and Lisa Hartman. (I also made reference to it in one chapter of "My Friend the Mermaid", and shamefully forgot to give the proper credit, so I'm rectifying that error here.)_

_Next up: Leslie has to be reminded that she wasn't always a well-behaved child, and finds herself telling tales on herself to Christian._


End file.
